I once met a girl with such beautiful eyes
by Annchen
Summary: I don’t know if I’m going crazy, or if I have ever been truly sane. I can see the signs now. The lonely person living alone in a too big house. Now complete with odd body-parts.
1. Obsession

There is no witch or wizard in this world richer than I am. I own the night sky over London in December. I own the tiny silvery bubbles in a glass of butterbeer. I own every streetlight in Knockturn alley and all the dandelions around the Shrieking Shack. I own the paws of the sphinx and the top of the cheops-pyramid. I own the softness of a dogs ear, and you are mine too, especially your eyes. I own a piece of everything beautiful I've seen in this world. That's my treasure, my sole happiness.

My house is not marked on any maps, and no one has yet found the way to it. I'm the only one living in it now. I own my house too, but that's not important. I have filled the rooms with things I find beautiful: glass-butterflies, dragonscales, fine art. But the most beautiful of them all is missing. You. You and your eyes. I have prepared a room for you in my house, but somewhere deep inside I know you will never come to me. 

----

_I once met a girl with such beautiful eyes._

_I wanted to pick them like flowers, to take them from their owner and bring them home with me._

_I wanted to have them standing in a vase on my desk, or keep them looked away like precious gemstones for me to look at whenever I wished. _

_Precious flower-gemstone eyes to give me happy thoughts._

_I decided not to pick them after all. _

_Sometimes the flowers are prettiest when they stand in their field not in a vase on a desk._

----

I watched you from a distance. You where mine, but you didn't know it. I don't think you ever knew. I had never truly claimed you, I liked you better when you where running free for me to watch over. I sometimes thought about what would have happened if I had told you, but I don't think like that anymore. It doesn't matter now. Nothing matters.

I watched you from a distance, I observed your face in the reflection on a water surface. I was the observer, still am, will always be. Sometimes I feel like I'm standing outside of time, watching tide pass by. I liked to think that I was your guardian angel, but I am no angel, I know that now. Maybe I was an angel once, but I'm fallen now. I don't know when I was kicked out from paradise, and I don't know if this is hell. Maybe this is the way it is supposed to be. Maybe I never truly was in paradise. Maybe I just gazed through the gates and into the paradise of your green eyes. 

I knew you would eventually die, but I had arranged things for you. Your eyes would always live, they would always be beautiful and they would always belong to me. Did I cause your death? I don't want to think so, but I will always carry that doubt inside me. That's why I'm leaving now, when I finally have your eyes in this house with me.

I never wanted you to grow old. I didn't want the blue clouds of age to disguise your eyes. I didn't want time to make your fiery hair burn down to white ashes. I used my black magic to keep you from aging. I took measures to make sure your eyes lived forever. I wanted to save your beauty, but I might have ruined it all. 

I saw the flash of green light. A sickening shade of green, nothing like your eyes. I couldn't save your life, I couldn't save your body, but I could take your eyes with me, and I did. I put them in the room I prepared for you years ago. I hope you like it. It's in the east tower, with a big window and white marble-floor. I painted the walls myself in a light shade of blue. I put your eyes so that you could look out the window. I smoothed one wrinkle on the rose-colored tablecloth and left.  
  


I have never once met your eyes since I took them from your dead body. I put them in your room and left with the intention to visit you later, but now I don't dare to go in there. I know you will look at me, because your eyes still live, but I dread your unblinking stare. What if I scare you with my appearance? What if you hate me for what I did? I probably should explain myself before I leave forever, but I don't think you'd understand anyway. I don't even know how to explain something to a pair of disembodied eyes. 

Maybe I shouldn't have done this, but it's to late for regrets now. Your eyes will live forever in that room, and maybe - since the eyes are the mirrors of the soul - a piece of your spirit will live in there too. 

I don't know if I'm going crazy, or if I have ever been truly sane. I can see the signs now. The lonely person living alone in a too big house. Now complete with odd body-parts. I fear I will eventually be buried under the weight of my collapsing mind. Something inside me tells me that as long as I see that I'm going mad, there is still a piece of sanity left. I have no illusions though, I can't leave this downward spiral, and eventually I will give in. The very last resort to escape the pain. To lock myself in and throw away the key. Allow the bird to leave the cage. Break the window. Madness.


	2. Madness

Countless voices echoed between solid stone walls but I could only make out the words of one of them. I don't know if she tried to sing or if she was reciting a verse. She kept chanting the same words again and again. The words were following the rhythmical thumps.

"Boys, boys, how little you know, 

 how little you know about life"

She looked at me and smiled that wicked smile.

I didn't like it. No, I didn't like it at all.

"I'm not like you," I screamed, "I'm not." 

I didn't know exactly what I tried to explain, or why.

"Of course." she said, only a whisper, almost a hiss.

"I may have to kill you," I said matter of factly, "I have to do that sometimes."

"How nice." she said, smiling kindly at me.

I didn't like this at all.

I really didn't want them to kill her; she had so beautiful long, red hair. Red as the midnight sun. It floated beautifully around her head, boldly defeating the rules of gravity.

But there were something wrong with her eyes, they drifted out of their soccets and circled around her head, diving in and out in her hair like tropic fish on a coral reef. 

"Don't do that," I said calmly, "then they'll force me to kill you."

She reminded me of someone. But wasn't she dead? I tried to remember, but my memories always escaped in an eruption of feathers when I tried to catch them. Sometimes when I didn't care, they would draw nearer and sit on top of my head for a while, but as soon as I tried to catch them they fluttered away again. Maybe some day one of them would get stuck in my hair, and I would finally catch them. I once tried to twist my long hair into bird-snares, but then my thoughts wouldn't even sit down.

No use trying. 

I rocked my head back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. My memories twittered happily when they tried to remain on top of my head. I play with them like that sometimes, and sometimes I think they play with me. They flew when I stopped rocking, leaving me with feathers all over. I looked at Her again.

She smiled at me.

One of her green eyes stared curiously at me still hovering above her head. It dived out of sight behind her hair when it saw me looking at it, and then glared back at me shyly from behind her left ear.

Then she started again:

"Boys, boys, how little you know, 

How little you know about life"

Her head thumping against the wall

on the other side of that fence.

My head exploded.

Her eyes fled in terror.

I started screaming. "Let me out, please let me out

She drives me crazy."

No one came.


End file.
